Precursor
by Aranel1994
Summary: This is a story about Garrett's ancestor that lived during the Precursor Civilization. Note! This is the new Garrett, but I'll be likely to add in the original Garrett. Rated K for death of character.
1. Chapter 1

_Note: I do not own Thief! A good amount of this stuff is coming from my wild imagination. Just for clarification, the Garrett here is the Garrett from the newest Thief. I'm most familiar with this one, the new game being the only one I've played. But I've spent a lot of time doing research on the old games and Mechanical Eye Garrett. I'll try working him in somehow. I read about the Precursor civilization in the Thief Wikia and thought it would be super cool to connect them up more with the story somehow._

**Precursor**

The walls trembled and dust fell from the ceiling as the earth shook and the lights flickered. Geir ignored the disturbance as much as he could as he rushed from room to room, gathering required materials needed for the ceremony.

Another violent shake rumbled the building. Time was running short. Alarmingly short.

Some of his apprentices began calling his name. He answered and they sought him out, struggling to stay on their feet in response to the violent shaking. Geir quickly told them the other materials that were needed. The young men nodded breathlessly and set off to their tasks while the women stayed by his side. Geir motioned for them to follow him.

"Evanthe! Evanthe!" he called out.

"I am here, Geir!" he heard his wife yell. He began running towards the sound of her voice and the cries of his child. He found them in an open room, huddled by a tall pillar. Two small bags were settled at her feet. Her beautiful golden eyes were wide with fear and her black hair was littered with debris. His baby boy screamed relentlessly, terrified by the violent commotion of the earthquakes.

He took his wife under his arm and began directly them to a door leading to a courtyard. The women apprentices gathered Evanthe's belongings and quickly followed behind. "Evanthe, a horse is waiting for you on the outskirts of the city. It should not take you long to make it there. As soon as you reach the horse, ride as hard and far away from the city as you can. Do not stop to help anyone. Do not look back," Geir instructed her.

She whimpered in slight protest, but nodded her agreement. They had argued over this moment for days now. "Once I am finished with the ceremony, I will make every effort to join you."

"I do not wish to be without you, my love."

They reached the courtyard and he turned his family to look upon them. The courtyard was dark as the sun had been blotted out by the rising smoke as the city burned. The air was sweltering. Evanthe looked into his eyes, clearly fighting back tears.

Geir looked down at his son, taking in his tiny body for what could very well be the last time. "You must get Gerik to safety. If this ceremony works, the bloodline has to survive. Gerik has to survive." He withdraw a small dagger from his thigh and a vial from his pocket. He allowed Gerik to take hold of his finger for a moment before taking the dagger and running the tip along a tiny portion of the child's hand.

Gerik withdrew his grasp, surprised by the pain. He began screaming once again. Geir fought back a wave of emotions, almost regretting the decision as he directed some of the boy's blood into the vial.

Geir pocketed the vial and withdrew another. Evanthe presented her finger to him, to which he did the same ritual. Her finger twitched at the pain of the dagger. He collected the blood and pocketed that vial before taking her finger in his hand and raising it to his lips. He kissed the wound and then took his family once more.

He kissed Gerik's forehead and then took Evanthe's face carefully in his hands. "Do not look back," he whispered once more before kissing her small pink lips. He turned them away from him and pointed towards a gate. The apprentices took Evanthe and Gerik and began rushing them out.

Geir prayed that they would make it to safety in time.

…

Garrett watched all of this unfolding before him. This was by far the most realistic dream he had ever experienced. The only fact that made him remember that it was only a dream was that no one seemed to notice his presence.

He didn't understand a word that was being spoken by these people. He had no idea what was going on. All he could gather was that this man seemed to be trying to accomplish something important and send off his wife, or lover, and child.

All hell was breaking loose in this city. Garrett watched as beautiful statues toppled to the ground and shattered and large paintings burn to ashes. It pained him, seeing so many things that if sold would set him up with enough gold to retire.

Not that he would even retire now.

And it was just a dream, he kept reminding himself.

Garrett could have sworn he heard the man say his name once, in reference to the baby. But when he said it again, Garrett heard the distinction. _Gerik_. Not Garrett.

Geir turned and headed back inside the crumbling building. Garrett followed him, curious to see what else this dream had in store.

…

Geir met the apprentices inside the building. They had gathered the rest of the materials, namely various books that he would need to reference in case he did something wrong. Geir approached what looked like a wall, but he took his finger and traced a figure in the air. Suddenly, the wall shuddered and it was revealed to be a door. He ordered three of the men to stay at the entrance and call down if soldiers stormed the building.

He shoved the door open and the group began traveling down a dark stairway. The staircase was thin and difficult, even more so because of the low light and now constant tremors. After sometime the passage widened and the floor evened out. They were in a cave of some sorts.

The eyes of the apprentices were wide with wonder. They had never known of the existence of this place. None of them were even sure what Geir was to do down here, but they had faith that whatever he had planned would save Karath-din. The Keeper always knew how to keep the balance.

A light could be seen ahead of them. It was strange. It was not from a fire, as it pulsed like a heartbeat and was the cool color of blue. When they finally reached the light, they all gasped except for Geir.

All around them were glowing gems embedded in the walls. White flowers that emitted blue light sprouted from every recess. And in the center of the natural room was a small pool that glowed from an unknown source. "This, my brothers," spoke Geir quietly, "is the Amaryllis Anemone."

He gazed thoughtfully at the pool. "The Heart of the City."

Geir moved suddenly, breaking the apprentices from their hypnosis. He approached the pool and stood on its bank. He withdrew the vials and handed them to the nearest apprentice before crouching down, dagger once again drawn. Quickly he began scrawling various glyphs around the pool.

"Sir, do you need our help?"

"No, just keep watch."

After completely going around the pool and scratching the glyphs into the stone he mumbled something that none of them could quite understand. The glyphs themselves lit up in the ghostly blue color. He requested the vials, and taking each one carefully, began speaking.

"I, the One True Keeper, hereby bind myself and my bloodline to this City."

He opened one vial and turned it over, allowing the contents to fall into the pool. Tendrils of red began spreading through the stagnant water.

"Bound to forever keep the balance between man and gods. To protect the people who live on these grounds, at any cost."

He poured in the next vial of blood.

"And bound forever to keep hidden the location of the Amaryllis Anemone."

Geir drew the dagger across his palm and squeezed the blood out over the water, joining his tendrils with that of his family's.

"_Ita fiat_." The pool lit up brightly and some invisible force began turning the pool. The blood distributed through the waters and the pool took on a red hue, still pulsing like a heartbeat. Satisfied, he turned to the men behind him. One of them ripped a piece of fabric from their cloaks and handed it to him. He took it gratefully and wrapped it around his hand as they made their way back up to the surface.

Geir traced a symbol in the air again, and the wall once again shut as if it hid nothing unordinary.

"What are we to do now, Geir?" one of the men asked.

"We are leaving. I am going to try to join my family. You may go your own way or go with me."

"The ceremony isn't going to stop the earthquakes?" another questioned.

"No. Nothing can save Karath-din."

The apprentices were speechless and confused. He saw this and explained, "I do not know the cause of this disaster. If we have done something to anger the gods or if what is happening is simply a natural disaster. But nothing can be done. So you can either flee with me or leave the city your own way, but I do not suggest staying here. The soldiers are coming for me and will surely kill you if they find you here. I thank you for your faithfulness."

Geir turned and ran to a nearby room. He gathered his weapons, securing the quiver along his back and buckling his light sword to his waist. He took the bow in his right hand and made for the exit. His apprentices were gone. He hoped they would be able to find their own families amongst the chaos.

He sprinted down an alley silently for a ways before having to take to the rooftops. Even though some of the buildings' were crumbling, he navigated across the buildings with surefooted ease. He could see the walls of Karath-din, and his heart soared with the possibility of being reunited with his family.

But just as soon as he allowed himself some joy, the feeling was shot down when an arrow clipped at his feet and shouts were directed at him. He dove for cover without even searching for the source of the arrow. He withdrew and arrow from the quiver, one that was equipped with the ability to create a blast, before daring a peek around his cover.

A small group of soldiers were gathering in the street, pointing and shouting at him. More were making their way to the commotion. Geir made a split-second decision then. Kill or be killed. He pulled back the arrow and left his cover. He quickly aimed it at the feet of some guards and released the projectile. It exploded and four soldiers instantly caught on fire, falling to the ground writhing. He took the opportunity to make a run for better cover, a fireplace on an adjacent roof.

He picked up as much speed as he could before launching his body toward the roof. But about halfway between the roofs, he saw that the area of his landing glowing red, unsteady as a fire worked its way through the wood. There was nothing he could do.

He hit the roof and immediately fell through. He landed on a hard floor with a grunt. Fire surrounded him and he heard the soldiers outside the building, demanding that he give himself up. Pulling himself up, he pulled out another arrow. He could see the soldiers through the flames that licked the windows.

Moving about quickly he was able to take out some of the guards. But the building was crumbling around him and he had effectively used all of his arrows. At any moment the roof would crash down on him. He knew he had a better chance of making a run for it.

He chose an area that looked thin with flames, mustered up his courage and charged. He crashed through the thin wall, rolled and found himself immediately surrounded by soldiers. They lunged at him and he drew his sword to defend himself.

Geir fought with skill and speed, but it seemed that whenever he took down one man, two more would come running up to join the fight. He was losing the fight as they kept inching closer and closer to him, becoming bolder with each swing.

A sudden violent tremor shook all of them and Geir lost his balance along with several of the soldiers. But one of the men took the opportunity and swung his blade down at Geir. Searing pain tore down the right side of his face and his eyesight turned red.

Geir dropped his sword and yelled in pain. The soldiers recovered and removed the sword from Geir's reach. They grabbed at his arms and legs. He struggled against them, knocking back some of them. He drew up on his knees and was about to begin defending himself again when his world exploded with light from the back of his head.

Geir felt himself crumple to the ground, and as darkness faded in around him, he desperately hoped the Evanthe and Gerik had made it safely out of Karath-din.

…

Garrett was stunned by the sudden turn of events. He followed Geir through everything. He thought for sure the man was going to reach the edge of the city. But then disaster struck and all Garrett could do was watch helplessly as the man fought off hordes of soldiers and was slashed in the right eye and eventually struck in the head.

The soldiers took the man and began dragging him off. They took him to some sort of temple. At least that was what he assumed it to be. There were large damaged statues of strange beings all over the place. Men in robes hurried towards the soldiers lugging Geir between them.

Garrett could taste the bile rising in his throat at the robed men. Priests, of some sorts. Their hands were red and dark blotches marred the color of their robes. They motioned for Geir to be carried inside the temple. Once in there they began tearing the clothing from his body. They seemed upset at the soldiers, gesturing wildly at his right eye… or lack thereof.

Once they had him stripped they began dragging him once again out another door. There was a blood-stained alter centered in a dark room with no windows. Candles were scattered about the room, but provided very little light as more were melted down and their wicks burned out. In the back corners of the room were several bodies stacked up; various animals mixed with humans.

Geir groaned, and the soldiers hastened to the alter and quickly placed him upon it. He was shackled to the stone and Garrett realized with horror what was about to happen. This is why robes were always a bad sign! He wasn't sure, but he was thinking that these men believed Geir to be the cause of the destruction.

Garrett turned to leave, not wanting to watch the killing. But his legs felt suddenly heavy as if weighed down by something. He saw nothing but was still unable to move, no matter how hard he tried. He willed himself to wake up, desperately opening and closing his eyes over and over and pinching his arm. Still he remained, forced to witness the scene before his eyes.

…

Geir fought his way back to consciousness. He felt the hard, cold surface beneath his body, which was completely devoid of any clothing, and the cool metal around his wrists and ankles and knew immediately where he was. He knew there was no use trying to break the chains, so he began shouting at the men in dark robes surrounding him.

"I am not responsible for this disaster! I have done everything I know to stop it! Please!"

The leader drew next to him, brandishing a silver blade. "Geir, you were trusted with the role of Keeper, and have failed to keep balance. You have angered the gods! You have betrayed Karath-din and you must pay with your life for this! We pray that it is not too late to appease the gods!"

"No, please! I have done nothing!"

The priests ignored his please and began chanting. His good eye searched the room wildly, hoping desperately that someone would protest this. He had no allies in this room though. He swallowed hard, trying to calm the violent beating in his chest.

Geir's eye landed on a man standing to his left who did not fit in with anyone. He looked the man directly in the eyes, taking notice of his right eye, which glowed a strange blue color. The man was lean, relatively young but worn, with dark hair and donned in tight-fitting light armor.

The man noticed Geir staring at him, and his eyes widened in wonder, as if stunned.

A strange thought entered his mind then.

He was so taken by the man before him that he did not taken notice of the blade raised high above his chest or the excited chanting of the robed men around him.

"Gerik?" he asked timidly.

Cool metal slammed into his chest, and he gasped. His heart protested at the sudden intrusion of the blade embedded deep in it. He huffed for air but his heart beat slowly and quietly a few more times before giving up.

As he felt himself slipping, he looked once again at the man standing there. Geir seemed to be the only one who saw him, and his last thought before his death was that this man was his legacy.

The Keeper.

…

Geir had been staring directly at him.

Geir had seen him. He had asked if Garrett was his son before the blade was driven into his heart. The eye contact with the man had sent shivers down his back and Garrett had just stared back, dumbfounded.

The tremors stopped. The priests began glancing at one another. After a moment they began smiling and speaking to each other excitedly.

Then, the earth shook harder than it ever had before. A crack formed in the floor and ran up the wall. The ground opened up, and the stone alter slid into the gaping hole, taking Geir with it down into darkness.

The men cried out in horror as the whole building was wrenched apart and was being swallowed by the earth. Garrett looked up just in time to see a hunk of the ceiling barreling towards him. He raised his arms and closed his eyes, fully expecting the heavy concrete to crush his body.

He shot up in his bed instead, breathing heavy and sweating profusely. He rubbed his eyes and concentrated on slowing down his heartbeat. After a couple minutes of replaying the whole dream in his mind, Garrett decided that that would be the last time he would let Basso talk him into drinking the cheap ale sold at the Crippled Burrick in large amounts ever again. He was quite sure that it was made mostly of piss now.

Garrett slid back into his bed and closed his eyes.

This time when he slept, he did not dream about Geir.

Instead he dreamt about someone much like himself.

He dreamt of a master thief named Garrett and he knew that he would very much like this man.

_Whew! Hope you enjoyed this! Not sure if I'll continue on or not, but I have a feeling I will. Please review this! It's only my second fanfic so I'm wanting as much feedback as possible! Thanks!_


	2. Chapter 2

Precursor – Chapter 2

Garrett found himself dreaming another stunningly realistic dream once again. He surveyed his surroundings quickly, out of habit and was instantly confused. He was standing on the ceiling? He looked up at the floor. Where the hell was he?

Garrett blinked, surprised as a figure, clad in black and moving rapidly, passed through him.

The figure stopped and crouched and looked behind his shoulder. Garrett thought at first he was looking at himself, but the man lacked his own obvious blue-green eye and looked a bit older than himself.

The man faced the other way and stilled, listening. The sound of footsteps could be heard around the corner. The man quietly withdrew a blackjack from under his cloak. The footsteps stopped. A man grunted and coughed, then mumbled something to himself before once again resuming his walk back down the hallway, away from the man.

The cloaked figure swiftly and silently rounded the corner. Garrett followed and turned the corner in time to see the man expertly bring his blackjack across the head of the guard, catch the unconscious body and lie it carefully down before resuming his journey down the confusing hallway.

Garrett followed the black-clad figure, watching his every move. He couldn't help but notice the obvious similarities between them. He was very lean, his movements swift and precise. The man was a thief, no question, on the prowl for a very specific object. A simple bow graced the thief's back, secured alongside a quiver that held various looking arrows. Perhaps the thief used arrows similar to his own?

This was confirmed a few moments later when the man withdrew an arrow, pulled and released it from the bow, effectively dousing a lit torch on the other end of the hallway. A water arrow.

The thief reached a locked door. Garrett watched him pull several lockpicks and set to work on the lock. Within seconds the door was opened and the thief was gazing inside. The room was lit by a large fireplace and the floor was void of any carpets.

Coughs and footsteps from guards could again be heard. Garrett almost felt like slapping himself when he witnessed the man withdraw a moss-tipped arrow and used it to cover the hard floors, allowing him to walk without generating extra noise. Why hadn't he ever thought of that?!

Suddenly, Garrett felt himself being pulled out of the dream. Almost angrily, he snapped his eyes open and gazed at his surroundings. His clock tower was showered with orange; it was dusk. He looked across the City—_his_ City—settling into a restful night, much like its citizens, whose pockets and safes sat, awaiting to be plundered.

The City was slowly picking up its pieces and putting them back in place. With the untimely death of Orion what remained of the Graven had shrunk back into the shadows, most hoping that their association with the faction would be forgotten and their lives would go back to normal. A new family was taking the place of the Northcrest's. More than likely just as corrupt, but hopefully not as eager to try to wield strange artifacts with the power to destroy the City.

After the events on Orion's boat, Garrett had stashed the Primal in a place only he knew and then settled in his tower to wait for things to calm down. His own little piece of the stone remained lodged in his eye. It had become a useful trait, allowing him to focus his abilities to achieve his goals, which had been rather thinned out due to the City being in economic shambles.

The flutter of wings on the windowsill caught his attention. Basso had used the past six months of downtime to his advantage, training a new bird to take the place of Jenivere. This one he named simply Jenny, as a tribute to his deceased companion, but Garrett was sure this bird made him angrier than the last. Not because of an orneriness that exceeded that of Jenivere, but because of this bird's absolute obedience. Her personality was passivity, and Basso couldn't stand it. For the first time in years his fingers lacked the typical bird bites and pecks.

The bird dropped the message and flew away. Garrett picked up the matchbox, and scanned it. Basso had a job for him. Garrett felt a sudden rush of adrenaline, more than he had felt since the events of six months ago.

Garrett quickly moved around the tower, gathering his leather and tools. Although he knew all his gear was in top condition, the result of six months of little to do, he checked over everything anyway. Better safe than sorry, he reminded himself, even though he had no idea how challenging the job would or wouldn't be. He was excited; there was no denying that.

As he cinched up his armor and harness, he couldn't help but think about the last huge job he had taken a year and a half ago. The last time he had seen Erin as her normal self. Once again he wasn't sure where she was or if she was even alive. She had made no effort to contact him and he had spent quite a few uneventful nights looking for her, even checking the prison to see if she was there. He thought of making another trip to the asylum but figured that would be the last place she'd go, considering the things done to her there.

His pride told him that everything that happened was her own fault. If she hadn't been so compulsive and had stuck to what he had taught her they would have left the mansion roof before the Primal had been unleashed. They would have gone their separate ways once again; angry with each other, but safe.

His undeclared brotherly affection for her told him that a lot of the fault was his own, for simply snatching the claw from her. He regretted even allowing himself to get attached to her. Hell, even getting attached to Basso could have been a mistake. It almost cost him his life six months ago. What about the Queen of Beggars? Garrett had an odd sort of relationship with her, having known her for most of his life.

He suddenly worried that maybe he had too many friends.

_Is that why you let me go, Garrett? _Erin's voice rang in his head.

He cinched his last buckle, making sure that everything was secure and ready for a night on the Thieves Highway. He lowered himself out the window and descended down the side of the clock tower.

The night was clear and chilly. The moon was bright and full and there were no clouds. The stars twinkled like gems. If he wasn't careful, he could be easily spotted by any patrolling guards or conscious citizens.

Let them see him. He missed the rush of being chased, only to lose his pursuers within minutes or even seconds as he expertly weaved his way through the shadows.

He remembered suddenly that he was no longer the only one traveling the rooftops. Sure, others who liked to fancy themselves as accomplished thieves used the Highway, but he wasn't worried about them getting in his way.

He worried about the vigilante, a man that had started his own crusade against the lingering corruption in the City. Would he consider Garrett a part of that corruption? What would happen if the two of them happened to cross paths?

Garrett crept along a ledge, peeked around the corner to look for guards, then dropped to the cobblestone street below.

He forced himself to forget about the vigilante for now. If they ever did run into each other, Garrett would make up a plan on the spot. It had always worked before.


	3. Chapter 3

Precursor – Chapter 3

Garrett was squatted down, leaned out over a rooftop. A small patrol meandered below him. Part of him thought this was completely irrational; but another part of him was desperate for some work, and he had to make sure he could trust this sheriff to keep his word, and Garrett knew that luck wasn't always going to be on his side. As much as he had accepted the fact that eventually he would wind up on the end of the hangman's noose, he wasn't looking forward to it.

He gazed across the street to a small jewelry shop. Garrett knew that the place sold cheap stuff, but he wasn't looking to get away with this heist. Going for something too big may cause him to second-guess his decision.

He carefully descended the side of the building he had been perched on. Sticking to the shadows, he made his way to the shop. Garrett checked to make sure there were no guards around before withdrawing his lockpicks. The door was open in a manner of seconds. He crept inside, making sure to leave the door ajar as extra incentive for the guards to investigate.

He walked through the shop, upright, as opposed to his normal crouch. Glancing quickly about, there was nothing that caught his attention as worth stealing.

The sound of footsteps approached from outside. Garrett tensed. He hoped that they didn't fire their crossbows first and ask questions later.

The footsteps slowed to a shuffle. Stopped. A happy tune began in the form of a whistle.

The footsteps continued. They hadn't even noticed the open door. The guards were still stupid; it didn't seem to matter who was in charge.

Garrett meandered over a vase and pushed it off its pedestal. It crashed to the floor, shattered in pieces.

"Did you hear that?" a voice outside asked.

"Hear what?" another voice answered.

Garrett rolled his eyes. He withdrew his blackjack and swung it down on a jewelry case, causing the glass to spill into the case.

"Someone's in there!"

"We're coming in! No use running!"

The door swung open furiously. Garrett could make out the silhouettes of the two guards through the doorway, and he could tell that they had their crossbows drawn, ready to fire. One of them reached over and flipped the light switch.

Garrett blinked violently, temporarily blinded, fighting the urge to try to dash out of there. He raised his hands.

"Don't shoot. You caught me," Garrett said.

"Damn right, we did!" the guard on the left retorted.

"We got ourselves a thief!" the guard on the right exclaimed! "What'll the boys have to say 'bout us now, huh?"

"Yeah, now you have to take me in," Garrett uttered sarcastically.

"Yeah. Right. I'll cuff him, you keep your weapon on 'im," the left guard instructed.

The right guard lowered his weapon and strapped it to his side. He approached Garrett warily.

"Eh, what's wrong wit' your eye?" the guard asked once he got up closer to Garrett.

"It's a long story," he answered. Garrett lowered his hands and held them out to the guard, who took them almost shakily. Clearly he was being arrested by two rookies. The metal cuffs enclosed around his wrists heavily.

As he was led down the streets towards the new prison, Garrett fought back thoughts of regret. If worst comes to worst, he _should_ be able to break himself out. He was the master thief, after all.

…

The prison was well guarded, which could prove to be a challenge should things fall through.

The rookies marched him through the gates and straight to an officer seated behind a desk, halfway hidden behind stacks of papers.

"Eh, captain, sir, we caught ourselves a thief!" the one of the left shouted proudly.

The officer looked up from his work and did a double take a Garrett.

"You two caught…_this_ thief?" he asked skeptically.

The guards exchanged looks.

"Yes?" the right guard answered, unsure.

"The _master thief_?" the officer asked again.

"You are a master thief?" the guard on his right asked Garrett.

"Well, if I'm bragging…" Garrett began.

"Not a master thief, he said _the_ master thief, idiot!" the left guard interrupted.

"The former Thief-Taker General hunted him for weeks!" the captain exclaimed.

"Well then maybe we should be thief-getter generals, huh?" the left guard chuckled. The captain looked less than amused.

"Right. The bounty on his head is quite significant. Take him to holding. He'll be executed at dawn," the captain instructed.

Alarm shot through Garrett. No trial? How far away was dawn?

"Alright, fella, let's go," the right guard gave Garrett a little shove.

"And make sure you strip him down!" the captain added.

…

Garrett resolved not to try to flee the prison. It would be no problem to get away from these two idiots, but at this point it would land him with a bolt in the back.

They took him to a small room where they had him remove his harness and leathers. They had confiscated the gear he had on him back at the shop. As he was removing his harness he carefully located a lockpick. He worked it around his hands, making sure that it was constantly hidden behind a finger while also making his hand movements look natural.

Then they had him remove his already thin shirt. When he reached to pull it over his head he took the opportunity to slip the lockpick into his mouth.

He was donned only in trousers by the time they were satisfied. One of his worst nightmares. He was basically naked since they had taken his gear. The way he was now—bare chested, face uncovered and hair revealed—was a sight few ever got to see.

Garrett was then led to a small cell. His absolute worst nightmare. The two guards slapped each other on the back. Why was he doing this again?

"Well, mister thief, it was nice knowing ya," the left guard said.

"We all pay for our crimes sometime," the right guard followed.

Garrett huffed. He was doing this for the exact reason to avoid the gallows, and here he was facing the gallows in a few short hours. The grunts of other prisoners echoed down the hall. Some were moaning or crying. The guards turned and left. His eyes followed them until they disappeared.

As soon as they were out of sight, Garrett withdrew the hidden lockpick from his mouth and crouched to examine the lock on the door. Much to his dismay, as the City was slowly improving, so was security. He would have to be extra careful to not break the pick.

Garrett glanced at the tiny window on the other side of the cell. No sign of the sun just yet. He took in a deep breath to calm his nerves that had been set aflame. He began to focus, his vision concentrated on the lock, and set to work.

…

Golden sunlight gently creeped through the bars of the window. The cries of the prisoners increased. Today, the sun was not a welcome sight for them.

Garrett sat in a back corner, knees hunched to his chest in an effort to ward off the coolness of the cell. He had not fallen asleep. The broken lockpick laid by his side.

Suddenly a formation of guards came rushing the hall and taking positions outside each cell. Some of the cries turned into wails.

Garrett slowly lifted himself to his feet, the cool air having gotten to his joints. His attention turned to a single figure coming down the hallway. The man walked slowly, taking his time to gaze into each cell, until he reached Garrett's.

He stopped. Took a step forward. Light spilled onto his face, revealing a relatively young man with a stern face.

"I assume that you would be the Master Thief?" he asked softly.

Garrett stepped forward, facing off with the man. "Depends on who you ask." The man's eyes shot to Garrett's vibrant, blue eye. The man smirked. "Well, it's nice to meet you." He withdrew a key from his pocket and pushed it into the lock. Without even turning it, the door swung open towards Garrett, creaking loudly. The man raised an eyebrow and Garrett fought to hold back a wry grin. He wondered why he had ever doubted that he could pick the lock.

The man gestured. "Follow me, please. We'll go grab your things. It seems my guards have made a mistake in imprisoning you." Rows of doomed prisoners filed past, but Garrett didn't have time to feel pity for them.

…

They retrieved Garrett's clothes and effects and the man left Garrett to don his attire, instructing him to meet him in the room down the hall.

Garrett wasn't really sure what he should have done if he had waited until the last moment to try to escape. He had unlocked the door, but he had battled with himself all night about whether to wait or try to make a break for it. He had decided fifteen minutes before dawn that the new sheriff would come for him if the job was that important to him. And it seemed that it was.

Garrett traveled down the hall and turned the knob to the heavy door. The young man waited for him, seated comfortably behind a desk.

"Ah, there you are!" he exclaimed rising from his desk. He outstretched his hand. "I'm Sheriff Liam."

Garrett hesitated. Just because this man had just saved him from the gallows didn't mean he had entirely earned his trust, but Garrett reciprocated the gesture and shook the Sheriff's hand.

"Basso said you wanted me to meet in person," Garrett finally spoke.

"Yes. I considered it preferable."

"I typically only work through my fence. This job had better be good."

"I completely understand. You took a great risk doing this, testing my offer."

"It's not the biggest risk I've ever taken."

Liam chuckled. "I'm sure it's not. So let's talk business, and I'm going to be up front with you: a sheriff doesn't exactly make a lot of money. I figured with that vigilante running about, and hopefully with my newly trained guards, it'll be more difficult for you to move about the City undetected. And you don't seem to be a spring chicken anymore, either."

Garrett's eyes narrowed, even though Liam was right. The Sheriff sensed his annoyance. "I'm sorry. But that's why I through in the offer of immunity."

"So let's cut to the chase. What's the job?" Garrett asked impatiently.

"I would like you to steal an old family heirloom from a high-ranking military officer. It had belonged to my ancestors but an unfortunate series of events knocked them from the upper classes of society. I would like you to steal a sword."

A buzzing started ringing in Garrett's ears, and his head swam. His vision darkened and he grabbed the desk to steady himself. He barely heard Liam ask, "Is everything alright?"

Voices flashed through his mind.

_I would like you to steal a sword. _The outline of a woman appeared.

…_an eccentric new face in town…_

Drops of wine. Vines sprouting from the liquid.

"Are you alright?"

Garrett suddenly snapped out of the trance. Liam stood next to him and had grabbed Garrett's elbow, staring at him with a concerned look on his face. Garrett yanked his arm away. "I'm fine."

"What happened?"

"Nothing, I just zoned out for a second."

Liam looked at him curiously. "It doesn't have anything to do with that eye of yours, does it? I don't think that's exactly normal."

"It's nothing. Give me the details for the job."

Liam seemed hesitant, but Garrett's hard stare seemed to convince him.

Garrett's mind was reeling, but he fought to stay attentive and once he had gotten all the details, he walked out of the prison, still a free thief, and better yet, a thief with a job.

…

_Ok, so yeah…this has taken me forever. It's not like I don't think about writing; it's just getting around to it. Throw in the fact that I'm more of an instant satisfaction type person, so when I'm looking for stress relief I tend to go for the games rather than writing. Hopefully this will not be the case in the future, because I'm really excited for you guys to read this story!_

_Though, speaking of video games, I will be streaming on Twitch tonight (May 15)! I'll be playing the first Thief game from 1998, in hopes that it will motivate me to push through this story and give me a more solid knowledge of the universe. Check me out! SJtheNerd! (I don't know if I'm allowed to advertise myself through this, but I just did, and I'd love for you guys to watch me!)_

_Keep a lookout for the next chapter! _


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